Dead Waters
by Mirrordance
Summary: "when good thirsts it drinks even of dead waters;" Weiß turns to Schwarz against a new enemy
1. Default Chapter

Author: Mirrordance  
E-mail: mirror_dance@hotmail.com  
Title: Dead Waters  
Type: series  
Spoilers: basically references to stuff all throughout the series.  
Warnings: angst, language and violence  
Teaser: Ken befriends a hesitant Farfello in strange circumstances,   
Ran gets hasseled by an investigative reporter looking into   
vigilante groups, and Schwarz want to collaborate with Weiss against   
a common enemy...  
Keywords: Weiss, Schwarz, Action  
  


_"And one of the elders of the city said, Speak to us of Good and Evil._

_And he answered:_

_Of the good in you I can speak, but not of the evil._

_For what is evil but good tortured by its own hunger and thirst?_

_Verily when good is hungry it seeks food even in dark caves, and when it thirsts it drinks even of dead waters..."_

--an excerpt from "The Prophet" by Kahlil Gibran

"Dead Waters"

Part 1

      Glowing golden eyes followed the lonely figure as it stalked across the darkened city, as if it were lost and yet intentionally aimless all at once.

      The Irishman had been sent to kill Siberian, and he had been looking forward to the good fight that awaited; the Japanese boy was a handful, even for him.  But, as he watched the disconcerted man sneak out of his own home with glazed eyes and what looked to be incredibly heavy burdens of guilt on his stooped shoulders, he suddenly changed his mind.

      Like a predator stalking its prey, Farfello lithely followed Ken Hidaka as he walked around the empty city.  He was both curious and disappointed that the trained assassin wasn't able to detect him.

      It was an unfamiliar feeling.  Curiosity, that is.  There's been too little of that in his life.  Too little of any kind of feeling, physical or otherwise.

      Maybe that was why, against any form of sense, he was following this man, just to...to what? See what Siberian would do? Find out why this midnight walk bothered him so much?

      Yet another new feeling.  Confusion, that is.

      What was he doing, playing this damn game?

      He was supposed to kill him.

      Ken was oblivious to his stalker, as he was oblivious to practically everything else in the universe that night.

      There was a pain too intense within him, that made him focus there and nowhere else.  Nowhere else...

      He tried not to remember the date.  He really did.  Failed, apparently.  Knowing the day was near, he tried not to look at the calendar.  He really did.  Failed too.  He tried to forget.  He really did.

      But somehow, his mind and his heart could not escape the memory.  

      Two years ago today, he had killed his best friend.

      It wasn't this bad, last year.  He had thought that perhaps the first-year-anniversary would be the hardest, but he was wrong.  Back then, he was too distracted by a mission, and later, too tired and wounded from the assignment to think about Kase.

      But this year...Manx didn't come bearing a disk and a folder.  He had all the time to think.

      And thinking hurt like hell.

      Somehow, he had found his way from his seemingly oppressive room to the kitchen.  And to that damned knife, which in turn have found its way to his wrists.  He was going to wait it out.  He was already feeling lightheaded when he realized that the only friends that he had left were not going to be pleased finding him dead on the lenoleum.

      So he took himself outside, and walked and walked and walked, not knowing where he was going, as long as it was far enough away so they wouldn't be the one to find him dead this way.

      He stopped by an abandoned building.

      Perfect.

      And Farfello followed him still.

      He stopped a considerable distance away from Siberian, who stood at the edges of the roof of the old, condemned apartment building.

      Being quite used to the scent, Farfello detected the blood on the air, saw it on the steps and knew that it had come from the target.  

      Uncertainty gripped him again.  What was that Japanese boy doing, standing on the goddamn ledge like that, with his wrists bleeding?

      It was a stupid question.  What he actually couldn't undrerstand, was Why.

      Why was Siberian doing this?

      And most of all, why was he holding himself back from killing the target and putting him out of his misery? 

      Especially since, apparently, it was what they both wanted?

      Siberian doesn't always regret the night that he had raised his claws to put a lethal blow on the two-faced man whom Ken had loved as a brother.

      Kase was evil.  It had to be done.  That's why Ken and his teammates existed.

      But tonight, Ken wasn't Siberian.  He wasn't the justified White Hunter, bearing arms to kill the scum.  He was just Ken Hidaka, who had killed his friend.

      He raised his arms to his sides, embracing the night.

      And let himself fall.

      It was a nameless, surprising emotion.

      Farfello's heart had tightened at the sight of that moment, that singular moment when he knew that the boy wasn't satisfied just slitting his wrists, but was going to make sure he stayed dead by jumping off the thirty-story building.

      Maybe that was the moment he suddenly realized the brutality of the truth of it.  Siberian wasn't bluffing.  This was the real thing.

      He lurched from his concealed place, and caught one bloody hand.

      The two assassins hung precariously at the edge of an unstable roof, but Farfello wasn't going to let go.

      Disoriented green eyes raised up to meet his own orbs of gold.

      There was a question in those eyes.  Then a strange kind of humor, as if Siberian was thinking that none of it could possibly be happening.

      Farfello could scarcely believe it himself.

      The green eyes slid close.

      The Irishman muttered a curse as he hauled up the boy's body.

      The two of them landed on a heap.  Farfello was not a gentle man.

      Standing up, he looked at the unconscious Siberian, and the blood that was pooling around them, the blood that was on his own hands, having grasped Ken Hidaka's wrists.

      It was an insane amount of blood.

      And for some reason, he didn't feel the usual elation over the sight, the feel nor the scent of it.

      He still didn't know why.

      But he hauled up the unconscious boy and brought him over to one of the empty apartments below.

      He didn't know what he was doing, but whatever it was, he wasn't going to do it halfway.

      He saved the boy from the fall--for whatever reason-- and he wouldn't let him bleed to death either.

      The sun rose, as it always did, over the city as if nothing had happened at all.

      The Earth was a separate existance, forever enduring no matter what life was lost and who it had belonged to.  It was a deceiving sight, but reassuring nontheless.

      Ran Fujimiya was the first one awake at the flower shop, which was also always the case.

      He strolled down to the kitchen, rubbing sleepily at amethyst eyes that seemed still asleep.  That was when he felt something wrong.

      He looked at the kitchen counter, and found the bloodied knife.

      Just as his eyes spotted the stray, scattered droplets of red on the floor, making a trail out the door.

      With heightened senses, he dashed up the stairs to the apartments above.  He kicked at Yoji's door, and the playboy had raised his head up from his pillow, sleepily inquisitive.  Relieved, Ran barged into Omi's door, nearly knocking the younger man over, who seemed to have been awakened by the noises he had made.

      It no longer surprised him to find Ken's room empty.

      He ran back to the kitchen and followed the trail of blood.

      It led him out of the shop, where busy people bustled on the streets that Saturday morning.

      The trail had been lost.


	2. Dead Waters 2

Author: Mirrordance  
E-mail: mirror_dance@hotmail.com  
Title: Dead Waters  
Type: series  
Spoilers: basically references to stuff all throughout the series.  
Warnings: angst, language and violence  
Teaser: Ken befriends a hesitant Farfello in strange circumstances,   
Ran gets hasseled by an investigative reporter looking into   
vigilante groups, and Schwarz want to collaborate with Weiss against   
a common enemy...  
Keywords: Weiss, Schwarz, Action  
  


_"And one of the elders of the city said, Speak to us of Good and Evil._

_And he answered:_

_Of the good in you I can speak, but not of the evil._

_For what is evil but good tortured by its own hunger and thirst?_

_Verily when good is hungry it seeks food even in dark caves, and when it thirsts it drinks even of dead waters..."_

--an excerpt from "The Prophet" by Kahlil Gibran

"Dead Waters"

Part 2

      Each one of them had his own assignment.

      Omi Tsukiyono, being a whiz at computers, was assigned to break into the computer files of nearby hospitals, as well as police stations, in case any reports have been recorded electronically on Ken Hidaka.  Yoji Kudo arranged to have a meeting with the Kritiker contact Manx, in case they knew more than the authorities (which was almost always the case).  Ran Fujimiya, in the likelihood that files were not input on computers, set off to inquire in hospitals and police stations for their missing friend.

      It wasn't what Ran would have wanted to do.  A member of White Cross missing, and they depend on legitimate contacts... it was almost unheard of.  But something about this made him feel that it had nothing directly to do with their clandestine existence.  That was probably why it gave him much fear; this, a personal issue, was where he had lost all control.

      Ran was on the front desk of his nth police station, inquiring persistently about his missing friend, when he felt keen eyes watching him.  He spared its owner a glance, and found her to be a striking woman of auburn hair, sculpted features and midnight blue eyes.  He could easily tell she was a foreigner.  Not the most beautiful one he had set his eyes on, certainly, but she had a way about her that seemed to fit her perfectly.  She wasn't very tall, though Ran thought that the judgment was unfair, being that his standards were high at a height of a little over six feet.  She was wearing a business suit with casual ease, and was carrying a large ladies' bag as well as a pen and a pad.  She scribbled hastily as she watched the proceedings, making Ran more than a little bit ill-at-ease.

      With the report finally over, Ran stared at the woman, who seemed oblivious to his ire; she had already turned on the cop at the desk.

      "Hi, I'm Dane MacAllister from WASF News," she told the man.  Fast tongue, Ran noticed.  Typical of a reporter.  There was a strong accent there, but it added to her suspicious charm somehow, and didn't make her hard to understand either.

      Losing interest, Ran turned his back on the two.  But her hand reached out and grasped his arm without even looking his way, keeping him firmly in place.  Ran was, of course, more than annoyed.  But to hit a woman was not an option for him, much less in the middle of a police station.

      "There have been a lot of missing persons reported lately," she told the cop, "more than the usual rate.  But no bodies are ever found, and a lot of cases remain open.  What do you think is going on?"

      The cop was more than flustered by the brash young woman.  His English wasn't very good either, and for a few moments Ran watched the two people struggle with trying to understand each other.

      "He's saying he's not the man to talk to," Ran cut in impatiently, shaking off the woman's grasp, "nor is he allowed to speak of the matter to reporters"

      The woman just grabbed his arm again, and Ran was too high-prided to try to run away.

      "Then point me in the direction of someone I could speak to about the matter!" she exclaimed.

      The cop replied something that was far from polite, and sounded more than a little rude.  Ran decided to edit the translation.

      "He says you're the reporter, you find out."

      Dane narrowed her eyes at the fidgeting cop in irritation and thought.  

      "You know, its people like you who mess up the industry," she said, pivoting on her heel.  "Let's go."

      It took Ran a long moment of disbelief before he realized he was the one she was speaking to.

      Once outside, he pulled away from her determined grasp, and proceeded to stalk towards his parked car without a goodbye he adamantly felt she did not deserve.  He couldn't remember being this much irritated in his life.  But maybe he thought too soon.  His annoyance immediately increased when she followed him.

      "Ran Fujimiya, right?" she asked, keeping pace, "I heard from your complaint.  How do you feel about the seeming indifference of the authorities during this crisis?"

      "Go.  Away."

      He hopped on his car and drove off.

      Arriving home didn't make his day any better.

      Ken was still absent, and Manx had a spanking new mission for the three of Weib remaining.  But therein lies the interesting point: the target was the elusive suspect for the capture of missing people.  He was known only as the Shadow.  A frustrated genius testing on unwilling subjects, and an adept at martail arts.  Of all the bodies found, he places a subtle but constant trademark, as if it were a compulsion he could not resist doing each time: three pairs of twin puncture marks forming an equilateral triangle along each of the victims' necks.

      Ran prayed he wouldn't find Ken here.

      "We get this done tonight," he said to Manx, as Yoji and Omi hastily agreed.  

      To say it was a sinister-looking place would be unfair.

      Despite the menacing minds that owned it, there was a deceiving opulence about the headquarters that spoke of class, as well as distinction.  The room the eight people were presently in, was decorated by baroque articles, most of which were genuine antiques.  There was a round table at the center, surrounded by eight faces.

      Like in any group, there was no formally assigned leader, but someone tended to organize and dominate the proceedings.  In this case, his name was Mitzka, and he had a strange accent that made one wonder at his roots, if indeed a foreigner he was.  He seemed theatrical enough to make one up.

      He was big and burly and had a keen mind to go with the artificially enhanced muscle.  It was his definite strong point, seemingly inhuman strength.  But that meant nothing at the moment.

      "How are our plans progressing?" he asked.

      A small, inconspicuous young woman named Carlotta was the one to answer timidly.  This one had the power to read and control minds.

      "The most accessible mind of Schwarz was Farfello's" she said, "I implanted the orders there.  Just as the most vulnerable at the time was Weib's Siberian.  I'm sure that after one of them is hurt, Weib would be provoked to kill Schwarz.  Farfello should have been done with Siberian by now"

      "Should have?" Mitzka asked, raising an elegant eyebrow.

      "Both are at present, missing," said Carlotta, "and I can scarcely scan all the minds in this city to look for theirs, could I? It's preposterous.  It was hard enough at the start, even when I knew where they were.  Besides, they probably killed each other by now"

      Mitzka accepted this with a nod.  The plan was to have Schwarz and Weib Kreuz kill each other off, anyway, to get both teams out of their way.  

      He turned to Ramon, the shape-shifter.

      "Are you ready to initiate the face-off?"

      The innocent-looking face of Ramon gave Mitzka a crazy smile, as his features seemingly melted into that of Ken Hidaka's.

      "I've been waiting for this"

      But the real Ken Hidaka was elsewhere, of course.

      Green eyes opened slowly, and he found himself in a dimly-lit room, where shafts of sunlight bled from the cracks of boarded windows.  He was still lightheaded, as was his last memory before losing consciousness.  His body was also aching dully, which he attributed to the fact that he was lying over bunched but still ineffectively thin matresses on the hard floor, like the one which had been draped over him.

      He chuckled a little, not knowing why exactly he found his disorientation unbelievably funny.  What a weird hallucination that was, seeing his great enemy's face hovering over his own, saving his life.

      His life...His life...

      He sat up with a start, thinking maybe the unthinkable happened after all.  He was supposed to be dead.  Not just dead, even liquid from the fall he tried to take.

      He turned his head sharply to the side, to find those eerie golden eyes staring at him.  Farfello looked troubled, determined, and more than a little insane, sitting on the floor and watching him.

      Ken pulled his hands up to his view, looking for bonds but instead found bandages on his wrists.  They were clumsy, and a little soiled but enough to staunch the flow of blood.

      He looked up accusingly at Farfello, his lips forming the only coherent thought that came to mind.

      "Why?"

      Farfello, throughout the restless night, had wondered about the same thing.

      He came to the conclusion just this morning, and was so anxious for the answer that he almost lost his patience and shook the soccer player awake.  But he bided his time.  And now he hesitated.

      "Why?" Siberian asked again, those green eyes blaming.  

      It was ironic, Farfello had to admit.  Siberian probably thought he was just plain sadistic.  When Weib want to live, he wants to kill them.  When they want to die, he wants to save them.

      "I wanted to know," replied Farfello, "what made the self-righteous White Hunter think that he had the right to take his own life"

      It was a simple, if brutal truth.  

      The existence of a member of Schwarz was questionable, at best.  Total world domination was starting to sound ridiculous, as he dwelled on it.  But White Cross' intent was clear.  Farfello thought that their motivations were pure.  And killing, it was a life left to the night, and in the day, its members relished in the security they provided.  Manning that eternally sunny shop filled with excited, laughing voices.  Playing in bright fields surrounded by happy children.

      It wasn't anything Farfello thought he could stand.  All that goddamn joy.  And it didn't look like anything that would accept him, being who he was, how he thought, how he looked.

      Farfello couldn't understand what Siberian was taking for granted.

      Ken was, of course, reasonably stunned.

      "It's none of your business," he finally decided to say, and Farfello nodded, as if he expected the reply.

      The Irishman got to his feet, and wordlessly and a little sheepishly offered a tray of food.  Hardboiled eggs and crackers, as well as a glass of tapwater.  Ken was familiar with the diet, being an assassin.  If you lose blood, it was the right thing to eat.  And Weib lost a lot of blood.

      He looked questioningly at the Irishman, who looked at him blankly.

      "Don't tell me" he said, "you're worried about poison.  You tried to fucking kill yourself twice last night and you're concerned about poison?"

      Ken stared, wondering if it was a joke, then decided it was too human an undertaking for a member of Schwartz.  But it was funny, nontheless.  So he laughed.

      And ate.

      Not that there was anything left to lose anyway.  

      The night, like the morning, gave no foreboding of the events to come.

      Mission accomplished.

      Yoji sighed as he drove down the familiar streets towards home.  Ran let him have the wheel this time around, for the red-head wasn't feeling in top form.  He sat in the back, recovering from a blow to the head as he rubbed at the triangular mark on his neck.  He looked wistful over how close he had come to dying this time around.

      Omi was beside him, a bit banged up but nothing serious either.  The Shadow was a handful, even for the three of them.  But he was dead now, and his victims would either be reunited with their families by tonight, or given a proper burial.

      The group was more than grateful not to have found Ken among them, but as the night wore on Omi wondered what he preferred; to never know what had happened to their friend, or to find him dead.

      He needn't have worried anymore.

      As they neared the back entrance, they heard frantic banging against the back door.  In the darkness, there was a dark figure there, leaning heavily against the door he was knocking at.

      Yoji warily shifted the car so the light would shine on whoever was there.

      It took them a long moment to realize the bloodied man was Ken, who had turned to face them.

      "Sorry..." he said in a hoarse voice, "I...forgot...my...keys..."

      He collapsed on the street, as Yoji, Omi and Ran hurriedly disboarded the car.

      Falling to his knees beside his comrade, Yoji checked for vitals and was relieved that battered as he was, the injuries were not critical.

      "Ken, what happened?" Omi asked.

      "Call Manx," Ran said as he removed his coat, handing it to Yoji to wrap around Ken, "tell her we have an agent down--"

      "No," Ken argued breathlessly struggling to push himself up to his elbows, "they're...gonna take me away...Jus' wanna be home now...Jus' wanna be home..."

      "All right, shh" Yoji said soothingly, pushing him down gently, "just relax, okay? You're safe now.  No one is going to take you away from here"

      "Who did this?" Omi asked.

      Ken closed his eyes in exhaustion as he answered.

      "Schwarz.  It was Schwarz."


	3. Dead Waters 3

Author: Mirrordance  
E-mail: mirror_dance@hotmail.com  
Title: Dead Waters  
Type: series  
Spoilers: basically references to stuff all throughout the series.  
Warnings: angst, language and violence  
Teaser: Ken befriends a hesitant Farfello in strange circumstances,   
Ran gets hasseled by an investigative reporter looking into   
vigilante groups, and Schwarz want to collaborate with Weiss against   
a common enemy...  
Keywords: Weiss, Schwarz, Action  
  


_"And one of the elders of the city said, Speak to us of Good and Evil._

_And he answered:_

_Of the good in you I can speak, but not of the evil._

_For what is evil but good tortured by its own hunger and thirst?_

_Verily when good is hungry it seeks food even in dark caves, and when it thirsts it drinks even of dead waters..."_

--an excerpt from "The Prophet" by Kahlil Gibran

"Dead Waters"

Part 3

      "I'm not your prisoner, am I?" asked Ken, tilting his head at Farfello in thought.  He already knew the answer, of course.  The two have been in the enclosed space for hours now, during which Ken found himself feeling safe enough to take a few more naps, a few more meals.  All the while Farfello hung back in his place, always looking as if he never moved at all and had all the time in the world...and was waiting for an answer.

      "You're free to leave at any time," said the Irishman, shifting his weight a little, "but you aren't going to yet, are you?"

      But he knew the answer to that too.

      Ken chuckled.  "I'm wondering if I'll ever regret not leaving while I had the chance, but you're right.  I'm not going yet.  Wouldn't want to come home to my friends yet, faced with all their questions"

      Farfello suddenly wondered about what explanations to give his own group, then decided they wouldn't ask.  He didn't know which one of them was better off.

      "Is this your house?" asked Ken, looking around a bit.  "Is that how you found me?"  
      "I don't live here," came the reply, "I was following you because I was sent to kill you"  
      Ken's eyes widened in surprise.  "Well.  Isn't this something? We've managed to get out of each other's way for almost two years, after all.  Would you mind if I ask who wants me dead?"  
      "Yes"

      "I knew that"  
      Silence.  It was surprisingly comfortable.

      "So should I leave now," asked Ken, "before you change your mind?"  
      "If you want to"

      "Why won't you leave instead?" asked Ken, smirking a bit.

      "You might try again" Farfello replied curtly.

      "Why care?"

      "Why kill yourself?"

      Why, why, why.  They were driving each other crazy asking questions niether would want to answer.  But the answers were there, clogging the room.

      Farfello stayed because he wanted to feel.  Ken stayed because he wanted to be numb.  It was a mystery who would be getting what he wanted, if anyone was to at all.

      Omi watched with a frown as Ken slept, deep in an exhausted slumber.  Yoji and Ran were just outside the bedroom, speaking in frustrated-sounding hushed tones.  Omi considered going out there to join in the discussion, but knew it was bound to be fruitless; would only yield more questions than answers.  No solutions would be forthcoming until Manx arrived.

      Omi surveyed the damage with a critical eye.  All in all, Ken looked much worse than he was in danger.  In a lot of pain, surely, but nothing fatal, and that was a relief.  The fear that ran through his veins at the sight of his battered friend was haunting and fresh in his memory.  

      The real question was, of course, why Schwarz decided to do this now.

      The two groups have not had any contact in years, as if each were pretending the other no longer existed.  Omi surely liked to think so, but apparently he was wrong.  The war between them hadn't ended in a doomed grave under the sea after all.

      Curt clicks of stilettos alerted him to Manx's arrival; it seemed as if she never needed keys to go anywhere.  She stood by the door with a thoughtful frown that could very well have belonged to Omi himself.

      Omi rose to stand with them.  The meeting was going to take place just outside Ken's bedroom door, for no one wanted to leave him behind and everyone had to hear what Manx had to say.

      "Are you sure he is in no need of a medic?" asked Manx.

      "He's a little banged up, is all," said Yoji, "and more than a little on shaky ground.  I don't think he would want to be seeing any strangers right now.  Maybe in a few days"

      Manx let out a shrill breath.  "Damn.  He says its Schwarz? We don't need this now"

      "We don't need it ever," Yoji said wryly.

      "Why would they do this?" muttered Omi, "after so long too"

      "And why suddenly let him go?" murmured Manx.

      "Maybe he wasn't released," said Ran, "he may have escaped, though until he regains consciousness we wouldn't know.  All he said was it was Schwarz"

      "You're right," agreed Manx, "we have our agents on the look-out for information.  But this is going to be a mess.  I was going to give you an assignment, but we may have to postpone, in light of this new crisis.  If Schwarz is still on the streets, we may have to reroute a few of our plans"

      "What other assignment?" Ran asked.

      Manx hesitated.  But only for a moment.  "Schwarz turned coat on SS, but the group is resurrected.  Some new prophet with new prophecies saying their ancestors could still rise again.  This crackpot is so charismatic its got the entire organization pulsating again.  But they're more cautious, this time.  They've got a new batch of helmsmen with a new set of powers.  This is linked with the Shadow, by the way, who was the brains behind the genetic alterations.  We're talking of a group just like Schwarz, but bigger and badder and more determined, after their failure"

      "Maybe they got Schwarz working for them again," said Omi.

      Manx shrugged.  "It is a possibility.  But groups like that have very strong principles about vengeance and loyalty.  Their 'justice' is swift"  
      "Maybe Schwarz makes up for the betrayal by working for them again," considers Omi.

      "Maybe anything" Manx said with a sigh.

      Suddenly, Ran drew his katana and fell to a cautious stance at the sound of inhumanly subtle footsteps.  

      He, Manx, Yoji and Omi were still considering their next step as they stood by Ken's bedroom door when seemingly out of nowhere, like an inescapable nightmare, appeared Noe Nagi, Schuldich and Brad Crawford.

      Yoji hissed a curse and looked at Ken, asleep and blissfully unaware.

      "What the fuck do you think you're doing here?" he asked.

      "Saving your goddamn ass, if that's what you're wondering—" snapped Schuldich, only to be silenced by Crawford's hand squeezing against his shoulder.

      "Like you saved Ken, right?" snapped Omi.

      "I'd save the hostilities for later," said Crawford calmly, "you know very little of what's going on.  Too little to be so arrogant.

      "The man lying on that bed is not who you think he is," he said, stepping toward Ken only to be blocked by the lethally armed Ran.

      It defied God, defied reason, defied pretty much anything anyone could think of that had anything to do with ethics or morality or human capability.

      And yet, it happened.

      Across time and across space and through mental barriers, Carlotta stretched her mind's arms and searched.

      "Where are you hiding…" her voice echoed.

      There you are.

      She found what she was looking for, and embraced it.

      "Farfello.

      "Farfello.

      "Have you killed Siberian yet?"

      Golden eyes snapped open and met nothing but the darkened room.

      "Have you killed Siberian yet?" she asked.

      "No," he replied.

      "Then do it"

      He flinched, looked around for where the voice was coming from.  A part of his mind, the sane and very quietly-voiced one, said that there was just one other person in the room, and this voice didn't belong to him…

      "Kill Siberian NOW" the voice insisted.

      "No!" he said, rising to his feet.

      "Kill him!"

      He placed his hands over his ears, found it profoundly useless.

      "Who the hell is this?"  
      "That doesn't matter…" the voice turned gentle again, but somehow, Farfello felt her restrained irritation.

      "Like hell—"  
      "Kill him now" the voice snapped, apparently having lost patience.

      "Shut the fuck up!"

      KillHimNowKillHimNowKillHimNowKillHimNowKillHimNowKillHimNow—

      "Stop…" Farfello begged.

      "It will stop," she said, "only when he is dead"

      KillHimNowKillHimNowKillHimNowKillHimNowKillHimNowKillHimNow…

      Farfello shot to his feet and ran away.

      Ken raised his head up at the noise.

      "What's going on?" he asked sleepily.

      The apartment was empty, and very, very quiet.

      Like a sick dream, the night was suddenly peppered by insistent rainfall.  Through it, Farfello ran like a deranged man, the voice in his head always just a step behind him.  It was ridiculous.  He was running away from the goddamn unsuspecting target.

      Who, in turn, was trying to catch up with him.

      KillHimNowKillHimNowKillHimNowKillHimNowKillHimNowKillHimNow…

      "Wait!" Ken was yelling, voice almost drowned by the sound of the rain.

      Farfello could barely hear anything but Carlotta in his head.

      She considered herself an artist.

      Playing god was a hobby.  Carlotta 'created' worlds that minds could get lost in, for as long as she wanted them there.

      She made her order echo insistently in Farfello's mind.  Then decided it would be infinitely more interesting and effective if there were pictures and goads to go with it.

      She showed him flashes of the pain that he has lived through.  Then flashes of a sun-drenched field, and laughing children and giggling girls and other things that he could never have.  The enemy that hindered the singular dream he could attain: the world and its material possessions, if not its love and its acceptance.  The innocent-looking flower shop which seemed to be the center of it all.        

      Kill.  Him.  Now.

      And he finally yielded.


	4. Dead Waters 4

Author: Mirrordance  
E-mail: mirror_dance@hotmail.com  
Title: Dead Waters  
Type: series  
Spoilers: basically references to stuff all throughout the series.  
Warnings: angst, language and violence  
Teaser: Ken befriends a hesitant Farfello in strange circumstances,   
Ran gets hasseled by an investigative reporter looking into   
vigilante groups, and Schwarz want to collaborate with Weiss against   
a common enemy...  
Keywords: Weiss, Schwarz, Action  
  


_"And one of the elders of the city said, Speak to us of Good and Evil._

_And he answered:_

_Of the good in you I can speak, but not of the evil._

_For what is evil but good tortured by its own hunger and thirst?_

_Verily when good is hungry it seeks food even in dark caves, and when it thirsts it drinks even of dead waters..."_

--an excerpt from "The Prophet" by Kahlil Gibran

"Dead Waters"

Part 4

      Ken watched with awe and horror as the events unfolded in front of his wide eyes.

      He hadn't noticed that Farfello's frantic running—and his following, led them both to the flower shop.

      It was very late, and so it was closed, and dark.  There was just one lighted room in the building, and Ken wondered why it was his own.

      He was unable to decide what to do when Farfello slowed, and turned to face him.  It froze Ken's blood, that predator-glare.  He honestly believed that Farfello's having saved his life was proof of the eccentric man's glancing touch with humanity.  There was no trace of that now.  

      Suddenly, as if changing his mind, just like an animal sensing bigger prey, he watched Farfello roar as he levered himself up from the sidewalk and threw himself against Ken's bedroom window, glass falling inward and outward like the rain as it shattered.

      He muttered a curse, then decided to take the back door going in.

      Ran, Omi, Manx and Yoji stared in horror as Farfello broke into the room and fell to a crouch on the floor, eyes bloodshot as he settled on his 'bedridden' prey.

      "Aw, Shit" a suddenly very alert and seemingly uninjured 'Ken' said, rising to his feet and looking for an escape.

      Farfello dived at him, which he dodged cleanly.

      But the Irishman was tenacious.

      Omi took aim with his dart, frantic to protect 'Ken,' but Nagi jarred his elbow and instead of his heart, Omi nicked the oblivious Farfello in the shoulder instead.

      More running footsteps added to the chaos as Ken raced up the steps to his room and watched, open-mouthed as Farfello worked on trying to kill 'him.'

      'Ken' looked up from his dodging at the new arrival.

      "Oh, fuck it" he said, and suddenly, the bruises melted away to the clear features of Ken Hidaka.  Then Ken's features melted away to reveal Ramon, the shape-shifter.

      This made Farfello stop.

      "You couldn't win against us anyway, even working together" he sneered, jumping out of the window.

      None dared follow.

      The voice in his head was gone.  

      Farfello held his breath, more than a little embarrassed at his outburst, as he faced his tribunal; Schwarz and Weiss, standing thoughtfully in a ransacked room, the wind tossing the rain in a storm outside.

      He watched with a wary eye as Ken stepped forward and grabbed his nearby red leather jacket, hastily slipping it on.

      "Cold," he explained with a wan smile to no one in particular, though to Farfello it was an obvious lie.  Ken was wearing a long-sleeved shirt, just as Farfello found him a day ago, but was making sure no one from his own group would see the bandaged wrists.  After all this time there were still scars that they hid from each other.

      "Somebody'd better start talking," Omi said with a resigned sigh.  "Someone's got to know what's going on"

      The basement was more than a little bit crowded, filled as it was with nine people, instead of the usual five.

      It was funny; Weiss felt somewhat obliged to be--Ran wouldn't have called it hospitable, but could not find any other word—and decided to leave the couch and chairs free for the reluctant guests.  Schwarz, on the other hand, were uneasy to accept the tentative welcome, and decided to stand as well.  A bare couch in the center of eight men in a crowded room with a red-headed woman wondering if she ought put them out of their misery and take the seat herself.

      "What do you know?" she asked Schwarz.

      Brad Crawford was the one to reply.  "S.S. is resurrected"  
      "That much we know," Manx said, nodding in confirmation.

      "Their new group of henchmen is called Geworfenheit—being cast down," he continued, "they are much affected by their loss.  The goal, of course, remains the same; that is, to resurrect the ancestors and to dominate the world.

      "There are eight of them now.  You have just met the shape-shifter," he went on, "there are others, with more fierce powers.  We, as Schwarz, have natural gifts that have been developed.  Theirs were genetic alterations, therefore more controlled, more specialized.  And their greater number is a threat to us all"

      "While that answers some questions," says Yoji wryly, "it doesn't answer what the hell you're doing here"  
      "Right now the only people who could stop them is in this room," replied Crawford, "Weiss and Schwarz.  That's why they wanted us pitted against each other, so we can get ourselves out of their way, once we've all killed one another.  They don't forgive betrayal, so we have no place there.  Nor would we want to be pawns again.  And I'm sure before we even arrived here, you were already to be assigned this mission.  We are here now because…we need each other"  
      He almost choked on it.  And damned if the rest of them hadn't felt the same way.

      They needed each other.

      "We need you to survive," said Crawford, "and you need us because it is your job to stop them"

      "How do we know we can trust you?" asked Omi.  

      "You don't," said Schuldich simply, as if he was almost wistful of the unfolding events, "you shouldn't trust anyone, these days"

      "That helps," says Yoji wryly.

      "I'm going to report this to Kritiker, see about our next step," said Manx, heading for the spiral stairs.

      "Not alone," Ken warned.  "You just heard what they said"

      "I could go," said Farfello, sounding a little bit out of his mind.  It was surely out of the blue, and the room was smothered by an odd, stunned silence.

      "Out of the question" snapped Ran.

      A member of Schwarz, by the side of one of Kritiker's backbones, and into Kritiker territory? What the hell got into that distorted mind?

      "I'll go with them," offered Ken quickly.  Yes, the less time for them to ask where he'd been, the better.

      "You wouldn't be able to stop me if I decided I wanted to kill her, you know," said Farfello.

      "We stopped you once," smirked Ken, "wanna lay bets on the next round?"  
      Manx looked cautious and somewhat miserable.  This was going to be just like babysitting.

      The three left the building, at which time Yoji turned to Omi and asked, "What the hell was that all about?"

      He glanced around the room, as if searching for answers.  All he found was faces of old enemies.  

      What the hell was This all about?

      Nagi Noe asked if Omi would let him use his computer.  It was obvious that Schwarz were not going to leave until Manx came back with information.  Omi, reluctant to leave the young boy alone with his confidential files, bluntly told him that he would let Nagi use it if he could watch.  Seeing the reason in it, Nagi agreed.

      The two youngest members headed off for the laptop.

      It was obvious that they would find common ground there.  Children always seemed to.  Everyone else having left, it was Yoji, Ran, Crawford and Schuldich who remained in the basement.  Ran would have, of course, preferred to leave the 'guests' to Yoji, who was usually more accommodating, but he was also loathe to turn his back on his old enemies.

      What was it that they say? Keep your friends close but your enemies closer?  
      "Anyone want some coffee?" asked Yoji.

      The four men headed for the kitchen.

      Outside, the storm had died.


	5. Dead Waters 5

Author: Mirrordance  
E-mail: mirror_dance@hotmail.com  
Title: Dead Waters  
Type: series  
Spoilers: basically references to stuff all throughout the series.  
Warnings: angst, language and violence  
Teaser: Ken befriends a hesitant Farfello in strange circumstances,   
Ran gets hasseled by an investigative reporter looking into   
vigilante groups, and Schwarz want to collaborate with Weiss against   
a common enemy...  
Keywords: Weiss, Schwarz, Action  
  


_"And one of the elders of the city said, Speak to us of Good and Evil._

_And he answered:_

_Of the good in you I can speak, but not of the evil._

_For what is evil but good tortured by its own hunger and thirst?_

_Verily when good is hungry it seeks food even in dark caves, and when it thirsts it drinks even of dead waters..."_

--an excerpt from "The Prophet" by Kahlil Gibran

"Dead Waters"

Part 5

      Deep within one of Kritiker's expansive bases, Ken and Farfello had just delivered Manx to a conference room and the Japanese boy was covertly leading the way to the infirmary as he walked beside the Irishman.

      "So," Ken asked, "I guess it's these Gowe-farenthieit-whatever guys are the ones who ordered you to kill me, huh?"

      Farfello snickered.  "Yeah.  I guess.  There was this voice in my head"

      "How did you know to kill the other me instead?" asked Ken, genuinely curious.

      "I'm not sure"

      Ken stopped by the double doors to the infirmary.  "You're going to have to get that shoulder looked at"

      Farfello glanced at it, as if he had suddenly just noticed.  "Fuck"

      "Omi meant well," Ken was quick to say.

      Farfello touched the wound tentatively.  "Take it easy, I don't blame the kid"

      Ken looked at the injury, winced a bit.  "Does it really…I mean do you really…"  
      "Not feel?" Farfello filled in, "yeah.  It's a bitch, isn't it? I could walk around town with a goddamn knife sticking out of my back and not know it until I see it or someone tells me.  Or I just drop dead and realize I'm dying from blood-loss.  But as I'm sure you know, it has its perks too"

      The two walked inside, and Ken grabbed some gauze and tape and antiseptic.  He knew his way around here.  Ken removed his jacket and rolled up his sleeves.  

      Wordlessly, he had offered his assistance.  It was just as quietly accepted.  

      In that moment, the way each of them had looked at things had drastically changed.

      Ken looked at the scars on Farfello's back, and knew how much pain the Irishman must have gone through, whether self-inflicted or not.  They belittled Omi's dart mark.  As he worked, he watched his own bandaged wrists.

      Farfello had learned the first night that they weren't much different after all.  Ken was seeing it just now, and it was a funny, lingering feeling.

      After coffee and some cigarettes (and practically zero conversation), Ran, Yoji, Brad and Schuldich went over to see what Nagi and Omi have come up with in the computer…

      Both the PC and the laptop were being used, one for each of them.  The first thought that came to mind was that they must have been working really hard.

      The second thought was that they were playing Starcraft.

      Schuldich snorted and caught their attention, making them sheepishly quit the game.

      "Aren't you busy?" he sneered.

      "We have the answers," said Nagi, "we pooled our resources.  I never thought it would ever be this easy.  We just decided to wait 'til Manx and the others return to break the news"

      Ran considered asking for the answers now, but if the two didn't see the urgency, then he decided to bide his time.  Apparently, so did the others.

      "So," asked Crawford in such a way that made the rest of them wonder whether or not he was just being a smart-ass, "who was winning?"

      Manx, Ken and Farfello returned in a few hours, with a solution that sounded so inanely obvious they needn't have gone and discussed it in a committee.

      "The mission is to terminate the organization," said Manx, "either through the heads of the S.S., or make them useless by eliminating their henchmen"

      "I could have guessed that," pointed out Yoji, "what took you so long?"  
      "They discussed what to do about us," said Crawford flatly.

      "And what did they come up with?" asked Omi.

      "As they said," replied Manx, "we do need each other.  But we cannot trust.  Yet.  The immediate orders are for you, Weiss, not to let these men out of your sights, should they choose to collaborate with the opposition and make them even more powerful"

      Ran look plaintively around the room.  That meant they had to live in the same roof for God knew how long.  This was going to be crazy.

      "What makes you think we'll take orders from you?" Schuldich asked, to no one in particular.

      "You know we're right," said Manx, and his silence confirmed this.

      "We found some useful stuff too," said Omi, "See, we used their singular weak link; that is Raphaeli Soto, also known as the Shadow.  We were hoping to nail this in one try, nip it at the bud so to say, so we tapped into his bank account, only to find that he was receiving pay-offs not directly from one of the S.S.'s heads, but from a certain Mr. Cecco, whose finely doctored files named him to be some kind of foreign entrepreneur.  But there was no other record of him.  We thought we were in a dead-end, until we decided to check out hotels for possible check-ins, and came across the name Mr. Bill Jukes.  See the connection now?"

      The others looked at him blankly.

      "Bill Jukes and Cecco are both pirates working under Captain Hook," says Nagi, "from the novel Peter Pan by J.M. Barrie"

      Ken rolled back his eyes.  Geez.  No ne lse ould have known that.

      "It wasn't so hard after that," says Omi proudly, "all around the city we tracked down Smee, Starkey, Ed Teynte, Noodler, Mullins and Cookson.  They shouldn't have bothered.  Almost any high school student from our place could crack this case.  Reading reports, you know"

      "The shape-shifter was called Noodler," said Nagi, "and is also known by the name Ramon Salez, a former mercenary.  We researched their activities for the past year, and found that they have been going to a laboratory outside of town regularly; every fifteenth of the month"  
      "At first," says Omi, "we thought that these were regular check-ups for their genetic alterations"

      "Then," continued Nagi, and the two of them were unknowingly sounding like strange brothers, "we hacked into police files and used Kritiker codes to access information on the people the Shadow had tested on.  Reportedly, all of them had temporary powers.  Geworfenheit has to come back once in awhile to renew the alterations.  The Shadow never came up with permanent effects"

      "No," said Schuldich thoughtfully, "Of course he had, the man was a genius for crying out loud.  Think about it.  This was intentional.  The S.S. paid the Shadow to come up with temporary effects, so Geworfenheit would be in their control forever"

      "For whatever reason," said Ken diplomatically, "we have a shot at this thing.  There would be one whole day, a few hours at least, when we can overpower them"

      "What date is it?" Manx asked anxiously.

      "The tenth" said Ran gravely.

      "Now all we gotta do is wait this out," said Nagi with a frown.

      Wait it out.

      They slept in shifts, as there were just four bedrooms in the building.

      Ran and Yoji stayed awake, as did Schuldich and Crawford.  The stalemates seemed to be decided on unanimously.  It was doubtful whether or not those above actually slept at all, but nevertheless, that was where they were.

      At about sunrise, Omi went down to breakfast, eyes alight as if coming out of a fever, looking no more rested as he had the night before, but seeming excited; bearing an old copy of Peter Pan, looking for more clues.

      Ken, Farfello and Nagi came down soon afterwards, and everyone had breakfast, which was cooked by Ran and Crawford in a compromise; no one wanted to consider the possibility of getting poisoned, after all.

      "A happy family, breaking bread together," Schuldich sneered as he looked down on his breakfast of sausages and eggs.  

      The comment pretty much summed up the irony of everything, and also pretty much guaranteed that further table-conversation was close to null.


	6. Dead Waters 6

Author: Mirrordance  
E-mail: mirror_dance@hotmail.com  
Title: Dead Waters  
Type: series  
Spoilers: basically references to stuff all throughout the series.  
Warnings: angst, language and violence  
Teaser: Ken befriends a hesitant Farfello in strange circumstances,   
Ran gets hasseled by an investigative reporter looking into   
vigilante groups, and Schwarz want to collaborate with Weiss against   
a common enemy...  
Keywords: Weiss, Schwarz, Action  
  


_"And one of the elders of the city said, Speak to us of Good and Evil._

_And he answered:_

_Of the good in you I can speak, but not of the evil._

_For what is evil but good tortured by its own hunger and thirst?_

_Verily when good is hungry it seeks food even in dark caves, and when it thirsts it drinks even of dead waters..."_

--an excerpt from "The Prophet" by Kahlil Gibran

"Dead Waters"

Part 6

      Crawford thought this next task was unprecedented.

      He reviewed the events that led him here, amazed at the suddenness of it all.  Farfello goes missing, he foresees Weiss' danger, they go to the shop and save them from the shape-shifter, they decide to stay…

      And now he was helping opening up the goddamn flower shop.

      Him! Manning a flower shop!

      He tsked at the idea of this…manual labor, but did remove his coat and rolled up his shirtsleeves, ready to be the best at whatever he did.  From the corner of his eye, he watched the others.

      Farfello wouldn't be here, of course.  As much as the prideful Irishman would deny it, he was insecure, to an extent.  He wouldn't be seen in this daylight, and must have been somewhere upstairs or at the back.  Schuldich was sitting on a battered table near the back, smoking with Kudo.  Nagi was there too, looking oblivious to the world as he read through the novel Tsukiyono just abandoned in favor of cleaning the glass outside.  Fujimiya was reviewing the sales records, and Hidaka was lugging around sacks of…of…God knew what.  Seeds? Grains? Fertilizer?

      So here he was, with rolled-up sleeves, wondering what he was supposed to do.  He surely didn't want to laze around, like the rest of Schwarz.  When he thought, he always ended up with some new prophecy that, at the moment, he didn't want to think about.

      "We're going to need some groceries, with more of us around the house," Hidaka was saying.

      A band of girls stepped into the shop, and Brad felt like…like…a lobster dinner at the end of a forty-day fasting.  

      "I'll go," he offered quickly.

      Hidaka snorted, as if he understood completely.  But let it go.  Brad noticed Fujimiya pulling off his apron and walking by his side.

      "I guess you're coming," he told the redhead, his old adversary.

      Of course Ran didn't say anything about that.

      The grocery was too near to waste gas on, so the two men walked side by side.

      It was surely a sight to be seen.  Both men were tall and lean and strikingly good-looking.  One man in a crisp white button-down polo with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows and dark slacks that fit perfectly.  His hair was dark as his skin was pallid, with cunning eyes beneath sharp glasses.  Beside him, making less of a strut but just as daunting, was a red-head with features as if sculpted by the hand of a master.  He was wearing a loose black shirt and just as dark pants, like a black-hole in daytime.  Still, Ran looked graceful beside the brash Crawford, save for his much more embittered eyes of near-see-through violet.

      Both men might have been aware of the stares of the women and the glares of other men.  But wouldn't have said anything.

      They strolled inside, and each grabbed a wire basket to put the goods in.  

      Ran wordlessly placed food on his basket, and when it filled, gave it to Crawford to carry, and filled that one too.

      Before stopping by the counter to pay, Crawford snatched two chocolate bars and grabbed Ran's arm insistently, leaning towards the other man's ear.

      "I can see it now," he said, "If you smile at the clerk, she'll give you thirty bucks off under the guise that she has no change"

      Ran looked at him nonchalantly, and a certain, unreleased part of himself wanted to go see if the pre-cog was right, though he was almost absolutely sure.  Crawford was well-dressed, well-presented, for a guy who supposedly didn't have a job after finishing his term as bodyguard with the late Reiji Takatori.  He used up all his assets, for sure.

      But thirty bucks was a big thing, and Ran so no point for the clerk to lose it, since she probably needed it more than she did.

      So he moved forward with a frown and paid the entire thing in whole, as was right.  Beside him, Crawford gave the lady a swashbuckling grin, and got a free packet of Juicy Fruit for his efforts.  

      More flower boys, more female customers.

      The Koneko's popularity with women was so great in the city that men were reluctant to go in (even to but flowers for a special friend or their mothers), for fear of being thought as…not-so-straight.

      Nevertheless, that day, the flower shop was practically pouring with females.  It wasn't usually this bad, as they usually came in different times of the day.  But the news that there were new boys in town spread quickly; everyone wanted a look.

      "I'm going to have to come up with something extra fantastic if I want to get that anchor job," said Dane MacAllister to her female companion, who also happened to be her producer, Aira.  Both women were having a free day from their very demanding workload and were taking a stroll around town, bearing shopping bags.

      "I have to agree," said Aira.  "The industry's more competitive than ever now"

      "I'm looking for an angle," said Dane, "I had a shot at the Shadow thing but, well…life goes on, I guess.  But there's something more going on here than meets the eye.  I've never felt stronger about anything—"

      "What's this?" Aira asks, looking at the flower shop crowd.  "Aren't these girls supposed to be in school or something?"  
      Dane looked at the crowd nonchalantly, distracted by her thoughts.  "Someone killed the Shadow, Aira.  And it wasn't the cops"

      "Butt out from the Shadow a bit, here, Dane?" said Aira, "Maybe it's a sale!"  
      Dane looked at the crowd, now.  "It's a flower shop, Aira"

      "Well maybe there's some celebrity inside!" exclaimed Aira, grabbing her friend's hand.  "Doesn't matter.  We're reporters! We're supposed to be at the center of the activities"

      Dane laughed.  "Not the center, Aira.  The center is the activity, and we bring it to the people.  Bird's eye view.  Which reminds me of the Shadow--"

      Aira rolled back her eyes.  "You know what? Never mind it with the figurative language, and forget the Shadow for two seconds," she mocked her friend with an eerie tone, "That flower shop over yonder is mighty suspicious"

      Dane sighed.  "Fine.  At least we might be able to get a human interest story out of this"

      The two women stepped forward to walk into the shop, only to collide with Ran and Crawford, spilling shopping bags of clothes and paper bags of food on the concrete.

      "Sorry!" Dane said by reflex, and fell on all fours, gathering her things and separating it from the food.  She raised her eyes to apologize further, and found herself eye-to-eye with Ran Fujimiya.

      "Oh," she said flatly, "You."

      Ran raised his eyebrows, recognizing her as well and apparently not impressed.  He gathered his own things beside Crawford, whose eyes were narrowed in thought.

      The two women and the two men got up, dusting themselves off.  That was when Dane noticed something…

      She put down her shopping bags on the ground and moved toward Ran, startling him into a freeze when her hand pulled down the v-neck of his shirt and looked at his neck—

      Ran recoiled, remembering the triangular mark of dots the Shadow had left there.  So much has been happening that he had forgotten about it, forgot to hide it.  It wasn't so bad  now, barely obvious even.  But Dane's eyes knew what they were.  

      Dane was staring at him with a hand to her mouth; blue eyes wide.

      Ran pushed his way past her into the shop, and she followed without thought, leaving Aira to gather her bags and stay outside, unable to get into the crowded shop with so many things.  Crawford stood beside her with a tentative smile on his face.

      "Your friend?" asked Crawford.

      Aira looked glumly at the shopping bags.  "Yeah"

      "She's a reporter," said Crawford, glancing at the shop glass.

      "You've seen her on TV?" asked Aira.

      Crawford found no need to say that he knew that because he knew the future that awaited her.  "Yeah," he lied.

      "I'm her producer," said Aira.

      "Stick with her, okay?" asked Crawford, wanting to give the lady a shot at gaining from Dane's bright future, if she played her cards right.  "Take my word for it"

      Inside, Dane was given a dirty look by the multitude of women who frequented the shop.

      First, she was a 'newbie.'  A foreign newbie too, and since the boys barely paid romantic interest to them, maybe their tastes went to foreign women, making her an enemy.  And, she ventured where no one of them had ever dared before—to the back room, trailing after Ran.  There was no sign to say it was for employees only, nor has there ever been a need for one until now.

      None dared follow her, that's for sure.  Ran had a scowl on his face.  But none dared stop her either.  White Cross wanted to see what this was about, and it wasn't as if they were very strict about those matters anyway.

      "Ran Fujumiya," she called, and he stopped walking and looked at her distastefully.

      "Say what you want and leave," he told her laconically.

      "We were at the station two days ago," she said, thinking quickly, "you were looking for your friend, I recall.  You were wearing a dark orange turtleneck shirt, so if the triangular mark had been there before I wouldn't have seen it.  But I'm sure now that it wasn't, because at that time, everyone who bore that mark on their neck was dead.  Bodies have been springing everywhere with that weird mark.  Well, that same night, someone kills the Shadow.  A vigilante, according to the cops.  So you were okay in the morning, and now you have that mark on you, but you're still alive.  Same night, someone kills the Shadow.  What happened in that time window?"  
      Ran stared at her, thinking maybe he could make up some excuse.  But he was never good with words, much less lies.  He hated the taste of them in his mouth.  Besides, there was no lying to a woman like this.

      "I can take a stab at guessing," she went on, "Either you were caught and was about to be killed when the vigilantes rescued you and killed the Shadow, or you killed him yourself.  Either way, you were there.  Am I right or am I right?"  
      "You're crazy," he told her flatly.

      "I'm right," she said melodiously, "now I want to know how much it'll cost for an exclusive.  I can see it now.  We can show the mark.  Then feature your silhouette to avoid identification.  It will be the best tell-all anyone has ever seen—"

      "No," Ran said decisively, thinking fast.  How the hell was he going to handle this leak? He turned to go up to his apartment, and as he expected, she followed him, rattling off more plans for the exclusive.

      He went inside and she followed him too, just as she followed him around when he closed all the windows and locked them, taking keys in his wake.  Then he went out of the apartment and closed the door on her face, locking it from the outside.

      It wasn't the best plan; then again, he was never really very good with people.  Nevertheless, she would be out of his way (and he, out of exposure) until he could figure out what to do with her.

      He heard her pounding against the door, cursing him.  

      Just as he was about to go down, Crawford appeared, with Dane's companion by his side.  He looked knowingly at Ran, unlocked the door and shoved Aira inside too.

      Now there was double banging from the imprisoned women.

      "I figured you didn't want a witness, when they start to look for the reporter," said Crawford.  Ran didn't even bother to ask how he knew.

      "There are witnesses all over the goddamn shop!" muttered Ran.

      "They won't care if the Earth swallowed the reporter woman," said Crawford with certainty. 

      "What a fucking mess," muttered Ran, more to himself than to Crawford.  

      "You're not annoyed at having been found out," said Crawford knowingly, "You knew someone was bound to come close sooner or later.  You're just pissed that it had to be you.  All hail Fujimiya, the invincible leader who was caught"

      "I wasn't caught," snapped Ran irritably, even as two angry women were banging against his apartment door, cursing him and demanding to be let out.  It wasn't a wonder that Crawford was smirking.  But what irritated him most was that Crawford had come too close to the mark.

      How was he going to tell the others that, apart from terrorist groups and cops at that, they now also have an investigative reporter on their tails?

      Yoji paused outside Ran's apartment door, his head tilted to the side as he considered the situation.  Beside him, Omi, Ken, Ran and Farfello were doing the same thing.  Downstairs, the shop was left to Momoe, oblivious to the once-danger of Schwarz, and got them working alongside her.  They were surprisingly civil to the old woman.

      There was no more banging this time around.  Just a lot of crashes, as the two women took out their frustrations on the piously neat Ran's lair.  He was wincing at his imagination of the chaos that awaited him.

      Yoji looked at him disapprovingly and tsked, making him irritated even more.

      Yoji unlocked the door and opened it wide.  "You can come out, now!"

      The two women stood up from the floor, strewn with Ran's things.  With dignity, they strolled out with chins in the air.

      "Just like that, huh?" asked Ken, looking after the two women with fascination as they strolled out.

      "Ran, Ran, Ran" Yoji said, in a tone that made Ran feel like a reprimanded, naughty kid no one knew what to do with.  "Your action was a sign of guilt.  Now, if you had just let them go, things would have been mighty simpler.  Of course, these women are sure they're right.  But the fact remains: they have no way of proving it.  Who are they going to tell? Who's going to buy it? Flower boys by day, vigilantes by night? Please.  It's been done"

      Ran was embarrassed.  Deeply.  But found no need to show it.  Yoji's line of thought was perfectly logical.  He hated it that he had to be told this way.  He hated it that he wasn't he one who said it or thought of it.  RAN FUJIMIYA DIDN'T make mistakes.  And to commit such a stupid one was beyond anything he had ever experienced before.

      Ken, bless him, was smirking helplessly.  Omi's mirth was much more restrained, shown only in his eyes.  Oh-Gracious-Leader-One was human after all, and it was a nice thing to have to see at last.

      That night, Omi was lying awake, staring at the ceiling.  A few feet away, one of the men who had caused his sister's death was lying on a sleeping bag in his apartment.

      In the mornings, it wasn't so hard to forget.  But at night, with a drizzle outside, he couldn't seem to take his mind away from the grief that this man had caused him.

      As if feeling his eyes, Nagi turned over in bed and looked at Omi, who shut his eyes quickly, feigning sleep.  Nagi snorted at him , telling him it was pointless.  Omi sheepishly opened his eyes.

      It was dark in the room, but eyes like theirs were well-adapted to that.

      "What are you thinking about?" Nagi asked.

      "My sister," Omi said without preamble.  The darkness, as it had always been, worked as a bitterly pleasant shade for him to hide beneath.  He could say anything now, and it was best to get this cleared, being that they were supposed to work together.

      "I don't know what to say," Nagi admitted tightly.

      "Do you ever regret?" Omi asked.

      "Regret what?"  
      "The things you did," said Omi, "the things you were?"  
      "Once in awhile"

      Silence.

      But Omi was satisfied.  Nagi knew by now that they had been wrong.  Schwarz was no longer in business, for whatever reason.  That is why they've had relative peace and zero-contact the past few years.  Omi was willing to give them a chance.

      "For whatever it's worth…I'm sorry," said Nagi quietly.

      Omi closed his eyes, let a tear fall against his pillow.

      "Thanks"

      Of the craziest, most unexpected things in the world, Yoji knew he had a definite winner here.  It's been days since the members of Schwarz started living with White Cross, and he was no longer feeling a sense of danger.

      As a matter of fact, strolling down to the basement and finding the German on the couch, smoking HIS cigarette, no longer gave him goosebumps.

      Yoji sat beside Schuldich, who gave him a cigarette and even lit it, two pairs of eyes meeting over an orange flame.

      "You people live the high life, around here," said Schuldich, leaning back on the couch and smoking rings.

      Yoji glanced at the red-head, with his sharp clothes and languid manner.  "You don't look like you're hard-up either"

      Schuldich shrugged.  "I do what I can.  Not enough jobs here for a foreigner without all the right qualifications, but then again…I'm not the average guy"

      Yoji didn't bother to ask the powerful man beside him what kind of means he turned to to maintain his lifestyle.  It could dismay him, and right now, with their teamwork imminent, he found no need to end up feeling that way.

      "It's not as bad as my old day-job," said Schuldich with a laugh, reading Yoji's frown.  NOT his thoughts.  He's learned to use his powers in moderation.  Life was simpler that way.

      "What made you change?" asked Yoji, not able to resist himself.

      You, Schuldich's mind replied.  Instantly, as if it were absolutely natural.  White Cross changed Schwarz.  They were supposedly weaker and without power, but won anyway.  Schuldich realized maybe it's really about heart after all.

      "I'm a practical guy," he said instead, "I mean, what was this society these goody-goodies wanted so badly to protect anyway?"

      "How did you find it?" asked Yoji wryly.

      "Pretty interesting"

      Days pass.

      The fifteenth arrives at last.  Mission night.

      Crawford lifted his face from washing it on the sink.  One minute he's trying to see through a blur, the next he's looking at Ran Fujimiya's cold eyes.  He squints, then slips on his glasses.

      "I hadn't known those were real," said Ran flatly.  The comment made Crawford's eyes widen slightly.  It was probably the first time he had initiated any conversation.  Then again, he must have wanted something to seek out Crawford as he obviously had.

      "It's not bad," said Crawford, "I was trying to see through the water in my eyes"

      Ran nodded, accepting this.

      "Translation: no determent to my performance tonight," assured Crawford wryly.  "What do you want, Fujimiya? You DON'T talk"  
      Well, he DOESN'T regularly do the things he's been doing lately.

      "Will we succeed?" Ran asked bluntly.

      Crawford considered the question.  "Contrary to popular belief, I still find select situations surprising.  There are a lot of futures to choose from.  There are a lot of consequences.  You never know, really.  I may have a more concrete idea than others, but I can never be absolutely sure"

      Ran frowned in thought.  "Will Schwarz remain by our side?"  
      "You just hate it that you're not sure, are you?" smirked Crawford, "Tell you what, Fujimiya.  What's the use of playing with your heads with a masquerade, when we could have just killed you at any time these past five days?"

      "Good," said Ran, convinced.

      Good.

      At least one thing in the world was.


	7. Dead Waters 77

Author: Mirrordance  
E-mail: mirror_dance@hotmail.com  
Title: Dead Waters  
Type: series  
Spoilers: basically references to stuff all throughout the series.  
Warnings: angst, language and violence  
Teaser: Ken befriends a hesitant Farfello in strange circumstances,   
Ran gets hasseled by an investigative reporter looking into   
vigilante groups, and Schwarz want to collaborate with Weiss against   
a common enemy...  
Keywords: Weiss, Schwarz, Action  
  


_"And one of the elders of the city said, Speak to us of Good and Evil._

_And he answered:_

_Of the good in you I can speak, but not of the evil._

_For what is evil but good tortured by its own hunger and thirst?_

_Verily when good is hungry it seeks food even in dark caves, and when it thirsts it drinks even of dead waters..."_

--an excerpt from "The Prophet" by Kahlil Gibran

"Dead Waters"

Part 7/7

      Two cars.

      Ran's silver Porche and Schuldich's red sports car.  For anyone who could have seen the eight young men who had stepped out of a humble building commonly referred to as a bachelor pad, they looked as if they were simply headed for a party, as men of their age were wont to do.

      A Party, thought Ken wryly.  

      They broke into two groups; Ran, Crawford, Omi and Nagi in one car, Ken, Farfello, Yoji and Schuldich in another.  One White Cross member for every Schwarz.  The arrangement would remain for the entire mission, until one of them either dies or turns coat.  They could watch out for 'friendly fire' that way, ensure they wouldn't be betrayed.  And the pairs were evenly matched, and treat each other with grudging respect in the least.  Former enemies who had shared the same house were relatively good ingredients for success.

      Ken clenched and unclenched his fists, comforted by the smooth woosh! of his claws as they extracted and retracted.  The sound was a little more bothersome to his companions in the silent car.

      Wrinkling his nose in dismay, Schuldich popped in a CD and the voice of some foreign, female teenage pop sensation drifted along.  Riding shotgun, Yoji took the CD out, looking disgusted.  

      "No, way, man"

      They parked the cars separately; two toys would be very conspicuous.  Then they walked the few blocks towards the laboratory compound.

      They hid in the shadows amidst the trees that surrounded a high, electric fencing.  Omi secured a line, on his knees on the grass with his laptop.  He and Nagi would be staying outside, as the outer-perimeter guard.  They would be saying who was coming in and going out, and tap into the security system of the compound and cut it off, looping it so as to not cause any distraction for the guards within.  

      "Comm check," Ran said, and each member of the group activated the communication gadgets strapped along their necks with phones from one ear to their mouth.  It was top-of-the-line.

      "Are the cameras out?" asked Yoji anxiously.

      "You're clean," Omi said distractedly, not even raising his head from his screen, "from the cameras.  But I can't fake the electric fencing.  It's out for the next seven minutes.  You have to get past the fence now"

      The six other men nodded.

      Stealthily, they made their way through the thin forest, and found themselves facing the high wire fence.  A huge sign said it was enforced by electricity, so anyone who dared touch it would be aware of the consequences.

      Grabbing a small twig, Schuldich threw it against the fence, and it fell against the ground, uncharged.  

      "Let's go," he said, grabbing a solid hold.

      It was a wonder that the group worked together so smoothly, not getting in each other's ways at all.  The infiltration seemed easy, so far.

      "We're clear of the fence, Bombay," Ran said over the link, "Anything else we should know about?"  
      "I'm getting some readings here," came Omi's voice, "I think we're looking at lasers"

      Yoji cursed.  "Where, for crying out loud? We don't want to tell them all we're here! I think it's just pure luck we haven't stepped on any just yet"

      "Disabling the alarms now," said Omi, "four, three, two…you're in the clear"

      They made their way around the darkened compound, and finally spilt into three groups to fulfill the mission-plan.  The goal was to find the drugs and destroy them, before Geworfenheit arrives.  If they could not locate it, the contingency plan is to destroy the compound.  Either way, the drugs would be gone, leaving Schwarz and White Cross a lot of space to breathe, and a greater chance of success in a confrontation expected later tonight.

      Ken and Farfello, bearing bags, were going to wire the place with explosives.  Yoji and Schuldich went together while Ran joined Crawford.  Both teams were both going to look for the laboratory which housed the drugs the Shadow and his team had created to destroy them.

      Of course, since the first step of the plan was to destroy the drugs, they might have done this a few days ago, when Geworfenheit wasn't coming later during the night.  But everyone agreed that the more they gave the elite group to deal with in a short span of time, the better their chances.

      Outside, Nagi drew out another computer and sat beside Omi on the ground.  Omi took care of the technicalities, while Nagi researched the drugs.

      "This is like looking for a needle in a haystack," Yoji's mutters could be heard, "There are about fifty million kinds of medicine here.  You know what I'm looking at? A cabinet full of little bottles of variations of prostaglandin samples.  What the hell is that?"

      "That's the pain hormone," Nagi said absently, looking at his screen.

      "We're looking for something along the lines of eight little pills, Balinese," said Omi, "It's not mass produced, if the S.S. want to keep these guys under control.  And the people who make these pills are scientists, so they go by a method.  If you see a cabinet full of variations of a particular thing, it most likely wouldn't be there.  Classification, you know?"

      "Yeah, yeah"

      "Bombay," Ran's voice rang through, "We're looking at a room full of what the American says are brain samples.  Animal tissues too, from the looks of things.  Would this be the place?"

      Omi consulted the map.  "You've probably found the testing facility.  I wouldn't think so, Abyssinian.  They're past animal testing at this stage.  Look for human samples.  Traces of the Shadow would be best"

      "All right, everyone," that was Ken, "this is Siberian.  The place is wired.  An explosive for every building.  Activate your switches"  
      Each of the eight men had a switch, a chance to blow the bombs.  This way, if push comes to shove, the laboratory will go up in smoke, even if just one of them survived.

      Omi heard a some commotion.  Cars coming in.  He tapped into the cameras at the main gate, and found two limousines on their leisurely way inside the compound.

      "Geworfenheit is in the house," Omi reported over the com, trying to sound calm.

      "You know what?" said Crawford, "I say we wait until all of Geworfenheit is in the hothouse, then blow up the place.  We're busting out of here.  Bye drugs, bye bad guys"

      "Not fool-proof," Ran said, looking around as if no enemy was coming.  He didn't let his anxiety get in the way of perfect accomplishment.  "WE survived destruction.  So could they"  
      Crawford considered, then went back to searching.  "Now where are those goddamn drugs?"

      "This is Siberian," whispered Ken, "We have a visual"

      He and Farfello his in the shadows of a building as the limousines entered the dark compound.  

      "Wherever they're headed, that's got to be where the drugs are," he said, watching the destination of the limousines.  "They're headed towards the warehouse at the far end of the compound!"

      "Can you confirm that?" asked Omi.

      "It's a definite," said Ken, "there's nothing else there but that warehouse.  The drugs, apparently weren't in any of the labs"

      "D'ya hear that, Abyssinian?" said Omi over the com, "abandon search in that building NOW.  Go to the warehouse at the end of the compound, you're nearest"

      "We'll give them a distraction," said Ken determinedly.

      "The German and I are coming in for a back-up," said Yoji.

      Run, run, run…

      Ran moved as fast as he could, paced by Crawford.  The two men huddled in the shadows and moved quickly between buildings, finally coming to a stop at the warehouse's back entrance.

      Warily, they looked at each other and stepped inside.

      Distraction, huh?

      "I wasn't talking about fucking suicide!" snapped Ken, when he suddenly saw Farfello tear from his side and run out to the middle of the road, making the two limousines screech to a halt, the one at the back bumping the one at the front.

      "Relax, Siberian," said the Irishman flatly.

      "Relax, relax" Ken muttered, watching as the doors of the limo opened and out stepped the hired goons.  As they settled their sights on Farfello, Ken made his attack from behind and killed four before they could turn and locate him.  After that, the rest he finished with easily.

      But triumph didn't last for very long.

      The hair at the back of his neck stood on end as a lull ensued, followed by the exit of what he assumed would be Geworfenheit from their cars.

      Farfello lunged at one of them, but was dodged cleanly.  It could have been something extraordinary, but SUPPOSEDLY, these guys had no powers as of the moment.

      Before Ken could think, a white-hot blast hit him square on the chest, seemingly from the fingertips of one of their enemies.  He flew backward and fell at last to the hard road, unmoving.

      Yoji, having seen the event, cursed over the com line.  "Shit! What's going on here? These guys have powers right now, damn it!"

      "What?!" Omi exclaimed.

      "I just saw one of the knock Siberian out cold, with electricity from his goddamn fingertips!" exclaimed Yoji, "we're in way over our head, Bombay!"

      Ran froze at what he heard.  

      Did that mean looking for the drugs would be fruitless, if the enemy had their powers anyway?

      "Keep looking!" insisted Crawford.

      Yoji rushed at Ken, even as Schuldich ran to meet the enemy.

      He slid to his knees beside his fallen comrade, feeling for a pulse, finding none.  Electricity was NOT a good enemy.

      "We have an agent down!" he yelled into the com, starting CPR.  "Damn it, buddy, what have we gotten ourselves into?!"

      Nagi's eyes widened at an idea.

      "Balinese, I want you to look at the situation and tell me EXACTLY how many of Geworfenheit are using their abilities," he said.

      "I'm a little busy," Yoji said breathlessly, preoccupied.  "Breathe, please!"

      Omi's blood froze at the thought.  "Siberian, get up!"

      "Atta boy!" Yoji said suddenly, sounding relieved.  "All right.  We'll get you out of here.  Um…As for the question…I can clearly see four of Geworfenhiet using their powers"

      Nagi muttered a curse.  "There's eight of them.  What are the other four doing?"  
      "Running…towards the warehouse!" exclaimed Yoji.

      Yoji looked at Ken's face, hesitating leaving his teammate behind.  He was coughing out stale air from his lungs, eyes watering from the effort.  He looked (rightfully enough) in shock, with pale-gray skin and dark-rimmed eyes.  But the more air he took in, the better his coloring.  Ken was strong, Yoji figured.

      He helped Ken up to a sitting position, and felt him start to shiver.

      "You're okay, you're okay," said Yoji soothingly.

      "Thanks," Ken said, sounding strained.  He focused his bleary eyes on the fight down the road.  "Geez.  I flew all the way out here?"

      "Trust me, you were going to go much, much further," muttered Yoji, then spoke into the com.  "What the hell is going on?"  
      "This is how it works," said Nagi urgently, "damn it, we should have thought of this! The drugs don't last for a month! They last for two! But these guys take it alternately, so as to never leave themselves defenseless! See? Four people take the drugs this month, the other four protect them.  The next month, the second four take the drugs, the first four protects them! Got it?"

      "Yeah," replied Yoji miserably.

      "Fuck it," they heard Schuldich voice over the com, huffing as he fought.

      "You're losing your diabolical madman touch, Schwarz," said Yoji wryly.

      "It's all this morality shit," replied Schuldich, and even as he fought, Yoji could hear the devil-may-care grin there.  "It's choking my brain.  Soon I'll be as dumb as the White Cross are"

      "Yeah, yeah, be a smart-ass," Yoji said, standing up and pulling Ken to his unsteady feet, man-handling him into one of the side-roads and sitting him down against a building.  "Stay out of this, Siberian.  You know I mean it"

      Ken waved him away tiredly, catching his breath and looking at his singed shirt, the battered chest beneath it.  "They ruined my good shirt, Balinese"

      Yoji gave him a rakish grin before running off into the midst of the battle.  "I'll avenge you, Siberian"

      Nagi stood up, making Omi look up at him.  

      "Where are you going?!" Omi asked, though he was pretty sure he knew already.

      "You've got it covered out here," said Nagi as he jogged off, "I'm much more useful out there.  Don't argue.  You know it too!"

      Fairydust.

      The little transparent bottle with four different-colored pills inside was nearly missed, placed as it was in a cabinet full of practically the same thing.  However, Ran saw the name.

      If he knew anything about Peter Pan, it was that the fairy dust can make you fly.

      "Got it!" he said to Crawford, who was on the other end of the warehouse, looking as well.  With triumph in his eyes, Crawford was stepping forward towards Ran when the door burst inward and four of Geworfenheit stepped inside.

      From what they heard over the com, these had to be the ones powerless for the evening.  But four trained people, with guns to back them up, would still be, in the least, a force to reckon with for Ran and Crawford.

      Seeing the bottle in Ran's hands, they braced themselves to take him out.

      Regaining his breath, Ken got to his feet and ventured out amongst the limos, to see who might need his help.  His vision still blurred once in awhile, his feet a little shaky.  But he was determined not to have to be useless in this.

      The four of Geworfenheit with their powers that night were the shape-shifter (who was a skilled fighter, even without his mind-games) Ramon, the burly and brutally strong Mitzka, the inhumanly fast Helene, and Medi, the man with the electricity.  

      Farfello fought against Ramon, while Schuldich, who had been working against Mitzka and Medi, was relieved one by Nagi, who had squared off against the electricity-man.  Yoji took over Helene.  

      It irked the chauvinist-side of Yoji to have to be the one to fight the woman, almost as much as it irked the playboy-side of him that she was so beautiful.  Then it just annoyed him that she was so fast and so good at fighting.  Nevertheless, he found that once he got her in his wires, therefore eliminating her advantage of speed, she was easily overpowered.

      Farfello was having a much-greater problem, as it seemed as if he and Ramon were perfectly matched.  A break came from him, and he finally got the man into a vicious chokehold.  He was going to just continue on, killing his struggling adversary slowly but surely.

      Through Ramon's hazy senses, he figured a way out…

      …he saw Ken Hidaka—Siberian, walking into the battle.  Geworfenheit did their own researching too.  The information was particularly useful for a shape-shifter.  He quickly changed into the form of the infamous Kase.

      "Help me!" he cried hoarsely.

      Triumphed echoed in his heart when Ken turned to look.  Then stare.  And then just be plain goddamn terrified.

      Ran's mind raced as he tried to find a solution for this one.

      Crawford could always get the bastards from behind, then the two of them could just have two of Geworfenheit to fight against each.  But that's not fool-proof, as he usually preferred most everything to be.

      What was it Peter Pan said when Tinkerbell was about to die?

      Clap your hands if you believe in fairies.

      He threw the pill-bottle into the air, towards a stunned Crawford.

      His katana and a moment of distraction was all Ran needed.  Once his adversaries looked up at the flying bottle, he swung his katana in a swift, wide arc.

      The bodies fell just as Crawford closed his palms against the bottle.

      Clap!

      Through blurred eyes and confusion, Ken saw the face of a friend, threatened by the face of his enemy.

      Extracting his claws, he made a mad charge towards Farfello and 'Kase.'

      There was victory in 'Kase's' eyes, disbelief in Farfello's.  

      But just as Farfello knew not to kill the real Ken before, Ken knew to flick his wrist just so, and took 'Kase' out by plunging his claws right into his black heart, instead of Farfello's stunned face.

      Farfello let the body drop to the ground in a dull thump.  Ken couldn't look.  He averted his face, and felt his knees buckle in weakness of body and spirit.

      Farfello caught him by the arms and shook him, trying to bring those rolled-back, flickering eyes back to focus and awareness.

      "Hidaka!" he said urgently, and waited for a minor eternity for those eyes to focus on his face. 

      "What?" Ken asked tiredly, as Farfello helped him to a semblance of balance by putting Ken's arm over his shoulder.

      Farfello nudged him insistently, to look at the fallen Ramon.  The face of Kase had faded upon the shape-shifter's death.

      "This is how it works," said Farfello, "No matter what name he has or which face he wears, the man who raises his weapon against you is your enemy, understand? You fight your enemy.  And you win."

      Ken looked at the dead Ramon.

      Realized at last that Kase was a mask over evil.

      No matter what name he has or which face he wears…

      Ken understood at last.

      Farfello looked around them, and wasn't surprised to find that he, Ken, Yoji, Nagi and Schuldich were the ones who remained standing (or struggling to, if one had to be particular).

      From the warehouse, Ran and Crawford stepped out as well.

      "Mission accomplished," Ran said into the com.

      Once inside the car, Schuldich volunteered to do the honors on the complex.

      With glee, he pressed the button, and waited excitedly (as a child, if one can imagine that on the face of the still-relatively-sadistic German), staring out the window.  His initiation of the blast was followed by a lull, then a series of explosions.

      Sitting shotgun, Yoji looked at him with a frown.  Then just sighed in resignation.  Sitting back, he glanced at Ken through the rearview mirror.  Still cold and in shock, he huddled in the seat with his head leaning tiredly against the window, covered in Ran's coat to keep him warm.  There was no question he would need to go to a Kritiker infirmary tonight (for one reason or another, almost all of them did).  But he looked at peace.  

      He raised his eyes and met Yoji's.  Then grinned.

      When Ken was released at last from the infirmary the next day, the rest of White Cross had come to pick him up and take him home.

      "Who's looking after the shop?" he asked.

      "Schwarz agreed to," Omi replied with a glitter in his eye.  He never thought he would be giving that particular answer to that particular question ever in his life.

      The four men drove home, to find that the shop manned by Momoe and Momoe alone.

      Well.

      As they had breezed unexpectedly into White Cross' life, they had vanished without a word.

      It was almost as unexpected as the weird, unexplainable sense of…of…of loss, that came over the four men who remained.

      It was a strange feeling.  After all, they hadn't been friends.

      But for a time, at least, they had not been enemies either.

      Taking a stroll around the city the next day, Ken found that his feet led him to that old, abandoned building from before.  The same place from nights and nights ago, when his enemy had saved his life from himself.

      It was a condemned building, so he glanced around before trespassing, wondering why even as he did so.  Maybe it was to allow himself whatever thoughts he had to think, before closing this chapter of his life.  Or maybe some part of him knew that Farfello would be there.

      The two of them were on the roof, where this had all began.

      Farfello glanced at him.  "Well, well.  Look who's here?"

      "You left without a word," Ken pointed out.

      "I recall," said Farfello wryly, "I've done worse against you before"

      Ken laughed, finding that funny.  It was true.  The last time they fought, Farfello grabbed him by the face and banged his head several times against a hard column…

      "I never want to see any of you on the other and of my claws again," said Ken.

      "I don't think you should worry about that," said Farfello.

      "Oh?"  
      "Kritiker offered us a job"

      Ken let out another surprised laugh.  "Oh, yeah.  Cool.  But I should have expected that.  Did you say yes?"  
      "Not…yet"

      "You should," urged Ken.

      "Are we…" hesitated Farfello, "going to be pawns again?"  
      Ken considered the question.  Time and time again he felt that way.  But certainly it was nothing that he did simply because he was forced.  Ken understood Farfello's concern.  He had tasted freedom from the S.S., took it one-step further by deciding he and his pals wanted to take over the world.

      And now here he was…

      "We're all pawns of fate," said Ken.

      "Lame"

      "I'm trying," snapped Ken, "I can't say things are going to be easy.  But the S.S. could try again.  Goons keep popping out of the woodworks.  We need you"

      "And besides," said Farfello, "where else could a guy like me fit in, right?"

      "Chicks like scars, Farfello," Ken said truthfully.

      "Not this much"

      "Think what you want," Ken said in a huff that still adamantly disagreed.  "Anyway, life is good, most of the time.  Who knows? Maybe they'll give you guys a shop to run too"

      Farfello smirked.  It still looked creepy on him, but Ken thought it was a definite improvement.  

      "Maybe," Farfello said.

      Ken knew he had won.

      Who knows?

      Life held a lot of big surprises for a lot of little people.

THE END

December 16, 2000

NOTES:

1. Ho-kay.  First of all, a big SORRY for the fifty-million-years delay.  As a matter of fact, I had already quit on this when I decided I don't like to post unfinished fics, because I myself hated being hanged like that.

2. SORRY for the wrong characterizations, if any of them didn't quite live up to your expectations.  I guess I wanted to do something different, but am also hoping I didn't stray TOO far.

3. The novel "Peter Pan" by J.M. Barrie is obviously a reference, as is "The Prophet" by Kahlil Gibran, the excerpt above was the one of the major factors that inspired the fic.

4. I didn't go into detail towards Geworfenheit, because I wasn't really sure what to do about describing powers and features, lest I sound like the X-men (good as it is, I found no need for that here).  So kindly…um…use your imaginations!

5. Sorry, I'm going crazy again.  If there are any questions, please e-mail me.

6. Comments are very, very welcome.


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